


47. Drinks, truth and not-quite-sex. Part Two

by glitteredsins, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Antony Starr and Stephen Amell [47]
Category: Actor RPF, Arrow (TV 2012) RPF, Banshee RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), New Zealand Actor RPF, Vampire Diaries RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 13:29:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4566402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteredsins/pseuds/glitteredsins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Warnings for references to Ian's assault, oblique references to how Antony dealt with Ian's attacker and discussion of drug use</p>
    </blockquote>





	47. Drinks, truth and not-quite-sex. Part Two

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for references to Ian's assault, oblique references to how Antony dealt with Ian's attacker and discussion of drug use

Ian's lips part and he finds himself leaning in for more almost instantly. 'Sex' is something he can do, and he likes Antony. _A lot_.

Encouraged, Antony deepens the kiss, keeping in mind the limits Ian set earlier.

It's Ian that pulls away, a little breathless, a little flushed, he dips his head and takes a moment. "You said you wanted to touch me... what did you want?" he asks, glancing up at Antony through his lashes in an uncharacteristically and unintentionally coy manner.

"Mostly just this," Antony says, eyes crinkling at their corners, "but we could get naked, get in bed, make out a little... no sex," he promises, crossing his heart like a fucking boy scout.

"What, you couldn't kiss me in the bar?" Ian teases softly. He's more than happy with Antony's proposal, and he shows it by toeing off his shoes and starting on the buttons of his shirt.

"Not comfortably," Antony says, pulling his shirt over his head, his boots already set aside. "Not without too many people watching us."

"S'that a problem for you?" Ian's a little surprised at that, hell he's fucked people down there and not thought much of it. "Anyway, why would they watch us making out, when there are people doing all kinds of more interesting things?" he shakes his head as he slides his shirt off his shoulders and stands to work on his pants.

"Not as a rule, it's not," Antony says, "but I wanted to be alone with you. Remember? The whole idea that we spend some time together, get to know each other better? I just didn't feel like doing that in the bar." He shrugs, dropping his jeans and pulling back the covers on the bed.

The bruising has gone, and all Ian's left with is three scars, still a vivid red from the stitches, other than that there is no visible evidence of the beating he'd taken. Pants discarded, he joins Antony in bed, sliding in and settling against the pillow pile behind him.

"You're looking good," Antony murmurs. "Do they hurt?" he asks, nodding at the two scars he can see.

Ian looks down at himself, in the days after his assault he'd dropped a couple of kilos in weight, but he's put most of it back on since, and he'd resumed his yoga regime - albeit modified - as soon as he could move comfortably. "These? Yeah they're sore, I'm treating then with some oil that's supposed to help fade the scars, they're not something I want Joe to have to keep looking at." He traces over one with his fingertips.

Antony shifts onto his stomach, leaning over and brushing his lips gently across the same one. "If you massage the areas a couple times a day it'll help too, break down any denseness underneath," he says. "Sort of pinch it up. It helps to use some sort of lotion or cream but you can do it without too."

"There's one on my back, that I can't reach," Ian murmurs, shivering at the touch of Antony's mouth on his skin. "I wonder, how it is Joe can look at me now and not see the mess I was... how you can too."

Antony shrugs. "People have short memories, especially when it comes to those close to them," he says, pushing up and getting off the bed. "Give me a second and I'll show you how to do the massage. You can get Joe to take care of the one on your back."

Ian watches Antony disappear, before nudging down the bedclothes to expose both scars, one just above his hip, one just a few inches over from the crease of his groin, high on his thigh. They'd missed his ink, for that he's grateful, but he hates how vivid the scars look against his skin which is comparatively pale compared to many actors. He glances up when Antony returns, a jar of something in his hands.

"Body butter. This stuff smells awesome," Antony says, getting back in bed. He cracks open the lid and offers it up for Ian to smell. "So, you get a small glob on your fingers, spread it over the scar," he does so gently, choosing the one on Ian's thigh. "It'll be better when you do it because you can judge but it'll hurt at first and it should get better as you keep doing it." Rubbing the butter in, his fingers pressing firmly along the sides of the scar. "You'll feel small pockets where it's knitting up underneath and you just want to work those..."

Ian frowns, trying not to flinch, perverse really, considering what he usually sees Antony for. He watches as Antony works the skin, pushing and massaging. The scent of the cream filling his nose. "How'd you know this?" he asks softly.

"My work," Antony says, pinching the scar away from where it's trying to stick to the underlying tissues. "Everyone's always getting all banged up."

Ian's brows climb at that. "They do?" he hisses as he flinches again. "Ow!"

"Sorry." Antony shrugs. "Some assignments are more dangerous than others," he says, finishing with the one scar. "You want to try the other one and then I'll do the one on your back?"

Does Ian want to do the other one? No, but he should show willing. Scooping up some of the cream on his fingertips he dips his chin into his chest and starts to work on the scar above his hip, plucking at it like Antony had with the other one. He grimaces a couple of times, but manages to massage it loose without too much discomfort. "The one of my back is the largest," Ian murmurs as he rolls over to show his friend. "And the most sore."

"I'll try to be gentle," Antony says, spreading a larger glob of body butter over the area and massaging it gently but well in until it's completely absorbed. "This is the hurt like hell part," he warns, starting to work at the dense spots underneath before pinching the scar away from the tissue.

Grabbing the pillow Ian's fingers curl into fists, and turns to press his face into it when Antony starts on the pinching. He yelps a couple of times before he pulls himself together and starts some centred breathing to relax himself, that takes the edge off and he only flinches a couple more times.

Antony hates this. Hates causing Ian pain when they're not getting off on it. "There. All done," he says, finally sitting back. "You think you can show Joe how to do that?"

Ian's nodding as he twists around, to roll onto his side. "Yeah, thank you," he pulls the covers back up, as if to hide himself. He'd kill for a vodka right about now, but he's promised Joe to not touch it until he's off all his pain meds.

"It'll make a huge difference," Antony promises, shifting to show Ian his right shin. "That there," pointing out a fine line, barely visible, "was a knife wound, needed ten stitches, and this one here," he says, shifting again to show Ian the back of his right arm, "was a fucking machete, but you can hardly see them now. Mostly because I did that massage even when it hurt so fucking badly I thought I'd pass out."

"A machete?" Ian, understandably, goes wide eyed at that. "Someone attacked you with a machete?" he peers at the scar, which is nothing more than a faint line. He pulls back to study Antony for a moment. "I knew there was something about you..." he shakes his head. "I tasted danger on you...I've only had that once before with someone...and he scared the fuck out of me."

"It was a job in Mexico, we unintentionally," Antony emphasizes the point, "pissed off some guys while protecting this other guy," he says, trying to downplay it all. "I don't go courting danger." Which is sort of true. It's mostly just a byproduct of what he does.

"Sure you don't, Mr I-know-how-to-deal-with-a-crisis, and how to minimise scarring," Ian quirks a brow, his tone bone dry. He'd felt it, that time at the gym when Antony had pulled a knife on him, that wasn't Ian's first instance of knife play as someone's bottom, but it was first time he _knew_ the other person was handling a knife with the kind of ease and confidence you don't get from just sex scenes. S'why he'd gotten such a kick from it.

Antony stares at Ian for a moment, a long moment, assessing things and then he nods. "Let's just keep that between us then, okay?"

That looks tells Ian plenty - but his only reply is to nod and then murmur a quiet, "Whatever you say." Because he owes this man more than he can ever repay him, so he'll keep his counsel, even from Joe.

The answer's exactly what Antony needs to hear and he relaxes again, stretching his legs out and leaning back against the pillows. "You hungry or you want me order up some tea?" he asks. "I'm gonna grab a scotch and at some point, I wouldn't mind a steak, but I'm good for now."

"Tea would be good, dinner is a 'hell yeah', but steak?" Ian pulls a little face of distaste. "And I'm guessing it'll be all red and bloody too?"

Antony barks out a laugh. "Yeah, I like my meat rare," he says, but he smiles at Ian, shifting onto his side to press a quick kiss to his shoulder. "I suppose I could go for a half chicken instead. Would that be any better?"

"I'd appreciate it for sure," Ian nods, smiling at the kiss and the laugh. He raises his finger to trace over Antony's brow bone. "You're a proper man's man aren't you? Nothing faggish or queen about you," he murmurs half to himself a smirk playing over his mouth.

Antony shrugs. "I am what I am," he says, watching Ian, wondering if that smirk means he's being teased.

"I like it," Ian pronounces, lifting his gaze to meet Antony's. "I like my pretty little fag boys, and those gay men who are just 'so fabulous darling'" Ian's grinning now, his tone mocking - himself. "This town is full of them to a greater or lesser degree, but you're different, and I like it."

"Thanks," Antony murmurs. "I don't mind pretty and I don't mind the whole other thing but none of that's me and it's not something that really attracts me either, as a rule," he amends, because god knows there's been a few fucking exceptions in his past.

"You don't mind pretty?" Ian snorts and pokes at Antony, square in the centre of his chest. "And you don't do fags? Oh sugar, you should see me in full flow sometime," he laughs. "It's all leather, glitter and champagne, darling..." he drawls.

Antony laughs, smacking Ian's hand. "I said you were my exception," he says, eyes crinkling at their corners. "And you're beautiful, not pretty."

A double blink and Ian drops his gaze for a moment. Before smiling again. "Joe tells me that too, though I thought he was love blind," he admits, "What's your excuse?" He knows how good looking he is, and he knows his whole fucking career is built on his face - but it doesn't make it easy to hear those kind of compliments from people whose opinion really fucking matters.

"Expertise," Antony jokes. "Remember, I collect beautiful things."

"Yeah but you've got Stephen to decorate your bed with," Ian points out, flopping back onto the bed and tucking one hand behind his head. "And he is excessively decorative."

"Yes, he is," Antony agrees with a smile and no small measure of pride. "But that doesn't mean I suddenly became blind to anyone else."

"Tell me more about you two," Ian turns his head to look at Antony, "If you don't mind."

"Not at all," Antony says with another smile. "We met at the end of the May, at the club, in the bar," he adds with a small laugh. It's such a cliched beginning but he could care less. "We scened, I asked him out for dinner and we scened again and then he asked me if I'd be his sir and I couldn't think of a single reason to say no. I don't think I wanted to. We just clicked. So we signed a three-month contract and I gave him a collar of consideration and we just finished our three months last week." His smile widens. "We made the contract permanent _and_ the collar and he's moved in with me."

"Wow!" Ian's all kinds of surprised, he's known some of it, but the last...that's new. "Congratulations, seriously, that's wonderful." He laughs and shakes his head, "You don't waste your time do you? A permanent contract after 3 months, that's impressive."

Antony shrugs. "I'm thirty-eight and I've been playing this way since I was in my teens. I guess I always knew what I wanted but I didn't think I'd find it and then Stephen came along and he checks every fucking box," he says. "Plus the one I really didn't think would ever get checked." Shit. "I'm in love with him."

"It suits you." Ian smiles, because he understands how _that_ feels. Finding love when you weren't expecting to. "It's scary huh? Loving someone, having someone right there to take care of," he snuggles in closer to Antony, as they talk.

"Yeah." Antony nods, blowing out a breath. "Marcus, my business partner, he says I'm fucked, that it makes me weak, means I have something to lose."

"He's not wrong," Ian manages a small shrug. "When you love someone you have everything to lose, I know that too well." He pauses, "But it also gives you so much more, it gives you a strength you never knew you had, gives you something to protect, something to fight for, someone to come home to."

"That's the way I see it," Antony says, nodding, grateful to have someone close to him that gets what he has with Stephen. "I didn't try and tell Marcus that though." He laughs. "I just told him to fuck off."

"He sounds charming," Ian remarks, reaching down under the covers to rub at the scar on his hip. "So your thing with Stephen, are you 24/7?"

Antony shakes his head. "Neither of us wants that," he says. "Plus I'm away so often. We like having our boyfriend time too."

"But it must be a large part of who you are, if he has a contract and collar?" Ian presses, what he's looking for is someone else's take on a kink based relationship, when he was with Kyan he always deferred to his lover, even if they weren't always in role, but with Joe...it's so much more fluid.

"Yeah." Antony nods. "It's a huge part. He's always my boy - we're just not _in role_ 24/7."

"So he defers to you, without you being overtly directing him all the time," Ian muses on that for a moment. "Joe and I are on a level most of the time, at least I think so, but a look, a word and he'll go down - ironic considering when we met he'd never experienced subspace..."

"Yeah? You must have the magic touch with him," Antony says with a smile. "Is he responsive? How far down does he go?"

"He's beautiful, his eyes go almost black and he gets this look, like I'm the _only_ thing in his world," Ian breathes out, his eyes lighting up. "He takes direction really well, but he also gets upset easily if he thinks he's disappointed me, I think that'll ease up with time though. But if I want him really down...rope, rope is my boy's cast iron kink."

"Restrained or any kind of bondage?" Antony asks.

"Restrained, bondage, it's all good, so long as there's rope...even the sight of it has him all doe eyed with want," Ian sighs, just the thought of his lover like that...

Antony laughs. "And here you've been teasing me about being smitten," he says, but it's clear he's incredibly happy for Ian.

"I have these really surreal moments - I look at him, and it hits me, I've found someone else who gets me, who I love so fucking _hard_ ," Ian's grinning, and shakes his head, "And then there are other times, when I'm out, or watching TV, or browsing some magazine and he's there 'JGL' - Joseph - you know? My boy, my lover is this hot shot Hollywood guy...it's bizarre."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Antony says with a smile. "The last flight I was on, there were these two girls in front of me, watching _Arrow_ on their laptop and going on about Stephen and it was so strange, exactly like you said, fucking surreal. Of course, he must get that with you too."

"I don't know...my profile is not nearly as big as Joe's, and he's been doing this since he was a kid. He's so down to earth about it all," Ian muses. "You're more likely to find me being a fucking diva than him," he laughs. "Hard to believe I know!"

" _So_ hard to believe," Antony teases, nudging their shoulders together. He smiles. "He seems like a really great guy."

"Yeah, and I want you to meet him when he's not all twisted up with worry. He's smart and funny too," Ian turns over onto his side to face Antony. "I think dinner for the four of us, here at the club would be wicked fun."

"Do you guys play with others?" Antony asks. "Not that it would lead there or anything, but Stephen doesn't." He figures it's better to be up front on that count. Especially if they're talking dinner at the club.

"No? Like to keep your toy all to yourself?" Ian's a little surprised at that, but he can totally understand the reasoning after all... "No we don't, not as a couple anyway, Joe's free to go get his toppy and bi urges attended to at the club, but as a boy? He's mine and I don't share either."

Antony nods. "Good, then we're all set. I wouldn't have even brought it up if we were going 'out' for dinner but if we're here... I've seen how a lot of those dinners end."

Ian snorts at that. "Hmmm, I may have misbehaved a couple of times, but not a full on scene over the food here, that's criminal!" he winks at Antony. "Joe adores that honey custard they do here, became our post scene treat for a while at the beginning."

Antony grins at the wink. "Stephen likes anything salted caramel," he says. "I got the kitchen to make him up some brownies on our first date."

"Peanut butter does it for me, Joe's learned this, he has stashes of peanut butter goodies for when he wants to lull me into a false sense of security." He glances at Antony. "The more you tell me about him, the more intrigued I am," he admits, because clearly his friend is _gone_ on his boy.

Antony smiles. "He's really amazing," he says simply. "I can't believe the two of you worked on the same show. Did you have any scenes together?"

"Yeah we did, one, a fight scene actually, we got to get a little hand to hand," Ian laughs at the memory, "Damon kicked his ass, until he got shot. But he worked more with Paul and Nina than me. We hung out a little on set, like I said, I liked him, but he certainly didn't ping my gaydar at all."

"I can see that. His PR team's been giving him a lot of grief," Antony says, thinking he'll have to check out more of the show. "They're the ones who pushed him to join Citadel."

"Yeah? Well I'm glad they found an outlet for him, and he's happy, but if he ever needs to talk that shit over? I'll be more than happy to do that, I've obviously danced both sides of that line. He can't allow them to run his life for him though, they're there to watch his back, not prescribe how he lives."

"Thanks." Antony nudges in closer, smiling at Ian. "I'll tell him you offered. He'll appreciate it. All three of you are in a far different situation than I am." Although being who _he_ is, in his world, he still has to be careful to keep his face out of the papers, Stephen off anyone's radar.

"Yeah, well, Joe and I have broached the subject of coming out a couple of times already, danced around the edge of the idea. I think it's something he wants, so it'll be a matter of when not if, for us." Ian reaches out now to pick up the one of the dog tags that Antony's wearing around his neck. He studies it and turns it over. "A bar code?" he asks, glancing up to meet Antony's gaze.

"They're from Stephen. His slave number. So I can carry him with me wherever I go."

"He has a slave number?" Ian doesn't hide his surprise. In his experience it's only the most dedicated D/s couples that head along that route, and often only after some substantial time together - but then he's always felt he's 'played' at the whole dynamic in the past - using partners as and when he needed an itch scratching, rather than as a lifestyle choice.

"When we were saying goodbye the first time, we had this talk about how he had his collar, something tangible to prove he was owned, but I didn't have anything on my end, so I said he could give me something tangible. He asked the club if they could register him even though he was under consideration at the time, with the proviso I'd have to sign off on it when we signed our permanent contract, and they agreed and he had it put on these tags for me. I'm glad they did." Antony exhales softly. "You know how sometimes you just _know_? I knew I wanted him to be mine, permanently mine, right after we signed our temporary contract. I wasn't in love with him yet but - he just hit every fucking button and it just felt right."

Ian rubs his thumb over the tag before letting it go and pressing it back against Antony's skin. "He's the one for you huh? This is it?" Ian's much more serious now, Antony's words making him think about Joe - and how he'd been so uncertain.

Antony nods. "Yeah. I might own him but we belong to each other."

"Yeah, I get that," Ian nods, "When I got beaten up, well before ...I knew I needed Joe... that I had to have him with me, but I didn't think I loved him, that I couldn't love him," he huffs out a breath. "How wrong I was."

"You had a lot to deal with," Antony says, touching Ian's hand. "It just took you some time to be okay with it."

"There's still guilt there, but I don't tell Joe that," Ian looks down at Antony's fingers. "Considering we're both naked and in bed, you're being remarkably restrained," he observes softly. "I don't know whether to be impressed, or worry I'm losing my touch?"

"You told me no sex so I was trying to behave myself," Antony assures him, but he shifts so he's facing Ian a little more, leaning in for a kiss.

Ian opens his mouth, more than happy to be kissed, to be petted and held by his friend - his protector. He hums softly, his fingers coming in to stroke warm skin.

Antony deepens the kiss, licking into Ian's mouth, nibbling at his lips, his growing erection pressed against Ian's thigh.

Rubbing himself against that thick length, Ian slides his arms around Antony's neck, pulling him in, closer, wanting more. It feels good to give it up, to relinquish some of his control to this man, a man he knows he can trust with his life.

Pushing the covers out of the way, Antony shifts them both, Ian onto his back, moving between his thighs, their cocks lined up as he continues kissing him, his breath coming a little faster. "This okay?" he murmurs, thrusting so their cocks rub together.

"Yeah, s'good," Ian murmurs back, "M'fine, I'll call stop if I need to," he assures Antony as he splays his thighs, allowing his lover to sink between them.

Antony nods, smiling down at Ian, one kiss following another as he thrusts against him, precome slicking their skin, the friction of cock against cock making him groan.

Ian's hands slide long the muscular planes of Antony's back, his fingers kneading, pressing in, seeking out sensitive patches to scratch and tease. His body is lighting up beneath Antony's knowing onslaught, he trusts this man, he's _aroused_ by this man, and Ian surrenders to it.

"You want to come like this?" Antony murmurs between kisses and thrusts. "Make a fucking mess of each other."

At first Ian's humming happily, but then he shakes his head. "M'not clean, remember?" he whispers back. Meaning his still under his 12 week testing schedule.

"I know," Antony whispers back, thrusting a little faster, his breath catching. "But I trust this."

With that Ian gives himself up, pressing against Antony and working his body to help get them both off. He groans, mouthing against the sweaty skin of Antony's shoulder, hips canting into each thrust.

"Oh, fuck, yeah," Antony groans. "Yeah, that's it." His movements starting to falter, heat flushing through his frame, his balls drawing up tight before he shouts out his pleasure, cock spurting thickly between them.

Slick, wet heat, and Ian pushes up, his own cock sliding along Antony's as it pulses, head tilted back into the pillow Ian cries out his own pleasure, and moments later he's adding to the mess that slicks their skin.

Smiling down at Ian, Antony finally drops his head for a kiss, mouth soft, warm. "See? I told you you weren't losing your touch."

"Thank fuck," Ian's reply a little breathy, though his tone is clearly teasing.


End file.
